Redmont
by storiewriter
Summary: A bleak future, a dead fortress, races switching their places. Chosen and Woodlanders. Vindictive rulers and barbaric slaves. All Martin can do is weep, and hope that one day, some day, the light will return. Not Sue-bashing.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Oh my gosh, I'm actaully alive! Will wonders never cease?

And it's not a Sue-Bashing fic, either? I'm going to pass out from the miracles, one right after another...

Thank Aelin (Oreramar) for this, though. She's the one who told me to write a one-shot about Redwall. Then this idea formed...

If Redmont has ever before been used, I apologize. It was not intentional in any way, shape, or form. My muse pestered me to do this, though.

It is _meant_ to be a one-shot. It may be expounded upon, but I'm not sure. Have to think of a way to make a character not-Sue...Suethor in recovery, that's me.

So, without further ado (And I hope I don't scare you...)

**Redmont**

Every woodlander, young and old, free or enslaved, knew what the old, red sandstone building was. A place to be feared, to skirt, to stay away from, lest they be caught as well and forced to work there.

Few slaves lived in that dark place, tending to corridors and putting up with cruelty and misleading kindness of their Masters. Thus, he'd always send more and more soldiers out, sneering and cheering, looking always for new victims, new caretakers of their domain.

The vermin who'd conquered the place called it Redmont Castle.

The name stuck.

Rebellion after rebellion failed to free the once-peaceful dwelling representing freedom and justice from wrongdoers, and the rebellion died out, reducing the once-grand woodlanders to poor creatures scurrying from shadows. The vermin elevated themselves, forcing those opposing them to call the assortment of vile creatures 'Chosen'. Their reasoning, was that the 'woodlanders' were called that for a reason. They were livestock, meaningless lives wasting the precious air. As such, they were treated so, given enough to survive their work, nothing more. True enough, nothing less, either.

When a child was born to the woodlanders, it was roughly taken away, and raised in a harsh world where it knew no relatives. Nobeast knew, either, which was their child. No name could be given, no special virtues could be found in the sparse seconds they were together. It was a brutal place, but not filled with extreme cruelty. If a Chosen killed a slave without provoke, they would be relieved of their life as well. The Chosen who lived in the Castle needed their forcefully bound servants too much.

Even so, a strong soul was born or taken every few seasons. Struggles ensured, and those who wanted to live were broken. Those who were reckless died. It was the way things were.

The slaves were reduced to squabbling, cruel, vindictive creatures. The strong preyed upon the weak. The weak eventually died. This was the new way of life, the only way to survive.

The only way a life could be lived. You could not afford to be weak here, for if you were, they thought, _to Hellgates with courtesy_. They were hungry. You had food. They wanted it.

They would take it if you didn't guard it carefully. And if it happened once, they'd get bolder and bolder, dish some of the workload on you. Didn't matter if you were youngling or elderly, though the latter didn't happen often. They'd do something and blame it on you.

The sad thing is, the Chosen would believe it.

In a slightly dusty corridor, where the Chosen, oddly respective of the object hanging there, Martin wept for what his Abbey had become. Beasts dared not go there often, for an odd chill would come upon them. Martin wanted them to feel the warmth, but their minds immediately felt the cold. Never the warmth.

It made him sad. It made him weep. For his precious dream, his post at which he guarded, was overrun by cruel vermin and mindless woodlanders, bitter with the years.

He could only hope that some day, some time, their rule would be broken and the Woodlanders relieved of their barbaric state.

Some day.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Against my better judgement... I have done this. My muse insisted, and I'm thinking this'll be a short story at best. The plot will move quickly, hopefully. And thus, here 'tis. It explains a few things that happen afterwards.

Read on!

* * *

Chapter One:

Wailing split the air already laden with groans and screams, and the mousewife convulsed one last time before going still. The mouse beside her spat on the body, and sneered, thrusting the bawling babe at the ratguards.

"'Ere," he said, "She's all yours. Ne'er liked 'er mum af'er all."

The rat's eyes were cold as he roughly shoved a leather bottle into the child's mouth. Gruffly, he said, "Go, slave. Get back to work. You're not needed here anymore."

The other guard pushed the mouse out of the enclosure, his paw going to the hilt of his baton.

"I'm goin', ge' off me!"

With a snarl on his face, the rat unconsciously rocked the child to sleep. One of the more rebellious ones. So brutal, these woodlanders. Uncivilized.

A look of loathing on his face, he glanced down at the sleeping babe, and snorted. Their children were deceitful too, and for the longest time…Ratbabes were naturally innocent. Not these woodlanders.

He shook his head sharply, ridding the thoughts. Blank stone, blank stone…Emotions no longer showing on his face, he marched to the slave's nursery. However, something compelled him to take a different route, one of the less-used ones.

Stepping into the chilly corridor, he had to suppress a shudder as he unconsciously tip-toed down the hall, pausing momentarily by the elaborate tapestry of a great, albeit woodland, warrior with Barbaric Chosen fleeing from him. Despite the obvious victory for the once-high woodlanders, he was in awe of the warrior. His sword sat with their current leader, sword harder than anything they'd ever come in contact with, nothing nicking its sleek surface. Little sharpening was required, and though the rat knew he'd never be Leader, he longed to hold it in his paws. It looked balanced, perfectly so…

Snorting, he scurried past, realizing that his pause had stretched across a few minutes. This babe was doing something to him, he swore…

Nevertheless, his neckfur prickled and he had the uncanny feeling that a pair of cold, mournful eyes were staring straight at him.

''-''-''

The elderly Woodlander grimaced, the few crooked yellow teeth she had showing through the gap in her mouth. "An'ther, eh?"

"Silence, witch."

She just grinned at the rat, and he nearly shuddered. With dirty claws, she stretched out her arm for the now-awake and suckling babe. Its eyes were still closed, and only the lightest coating of fur covered the otherwise-naked body.

Handing over the babe, who started to cry, the rat stepped back. The shrew held the child a little tighter than she should, and with a deceitful, crooning voice, she began to sing,

"And as th'dark does filter through,

The lies of light 'n ev'ry hue,

Thinking life as wond'rous thing,

Whereas life is t'deal out screams…"

Shuddering, he exited the room and tried to ignore the tune she sang. Nevertheless, the notes haunted him, as did the cries of the newborn.

"Life is pain, my little one,

Hope and love you now must shun,

Joy and light are illusions,

Gone as swift as fading sun…"

In the room, the shrew wife, probably the eldest of them all, grinned crookedly and sang on.

"For now your life is not so grand,

Lowest of all those in the land,

Accept your lot, accept th'pain,

The tears that fall like darkened rain…"

Her voice trailed off as the babe continued to cry, and she frowned. "Accept it, you child. You have no hope for a better life."

The now-quiet child raised its arms, seeking warmth, but the shrew did not give it. Her frown deepened, and she sang in a troubled voice.

"Joy and Hope d'not exist,

Hate and Pain life's endless rift,

Chosen are th'rulers now,

Woodlanders still d'not know how..."

The babe's eyes drooped, but the child did not sleep like the others would have. The shrewwife shook her head roughly, and, out of pure desperation, tried something nicer. The words tasted odd in her mouth, being used to weaving darkened dreams.

"And the light that filters in,

Signals th'day shall now begin,

And as th'stars blink out and fade,

The colors in begin t'shade..."

The babe slipped off into sleep, and the wife glared down at the youngling.

"Mark my words, little one. That will never happen. Th'world is dark. Accept it."

She sharply called out, "Kad! Come!"

A dusty, lanky vole picked himself of the ground. "Yeah?"

"Put 'er in a box. Give 'er a name. Bad luck, 'er." She spat on the ground next to her feet.

Rolling his eyes, he made to roughly grab the child with grubby paws, but the shrew's eyes flashed a warning.

"Do that, an' she'll wake. You know what I had t'do t'get 'er to sleep."

Gingerly, she placed the babe in his arms and rubbed her own on a dress of rags, as if to scrub the babe's scent off. Shrugging, an less troubled expression on his features, Kad walked to the farthest babe-bed from the shrewwife. The vole placed the babe in the box, and despite all the names he thought up, none fit. Cruel, vindictive, they just didn't _fit_. Kad was a stickler for names.

"A flaw," the shrewwife had said. "Get rid of it."

Hard as he tried, though, it refused to go away.

Quietly, he remembered that ancient fairytale about the squirrelmaid. Her name…it worked. Wasn't the best one. Didn't like it as much as Cal or Ave or Pai or Detes. But it'd have to do.

On impulse, he whispered in her ear, "Jess."

In the dust-ridden hall, a ghost of a smile appeared upon the Warrior's face.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N:** SHE FINALLY UPDATED! HOORAY!

Sorry for the wait, I put it off. But I had time, and so I wrote this.

Good news: I finished the third chapter as well. Lucky you...

Thank you all for the reviews, it overwhelmed me that people actually enjoy my writing. Thank you so much.

So, here you go.

* * *

Chapter 2:

Struggling with the hoe, which was dull to the point that it would be easier to jab a rounded stick into the ground, Jess paused to wipe the sweat off her brow. Her tail was coated with ever-present dirt, and her ripped tunic was encrusted with mud.

"Ey, stoppin' already, Jess? You too _weak_?"

She whipped around and slammed a paw into the squirrel's jaw. "Watch it, Wak. Jus' watch it."

He wiped at the blood leaking out of his mouth and made to strike her with his hoe before a ratguard restrained him and her both.

"Stop. You know the consequences."

Glowering at Wak, Jess tried to shrug the rat's paw off, but he tightened his grip. "Am I understood?" he hissed.

She snarled a 'Yes', and went back to furrowing lines in the ground with more effort than before. Beside her, she felt Wak continue in his work as well. Soon, she lost herself in her own mind, the repetitive work causing her muscles to ache and new blisters to break out on her paws.

Before long, the bell in the Castle was rung, and the slaves shuffled into line, pushing and shoving to either stay where they were or advance further up. There was more of the latter, however.

Jess battled her way through pushing paws and ripping claws. Hearing somebody trying to come up behind her, she whirled around and kicked the unfortunate vole in the stomach. Turning around, not caring what happened to him, she continued getting as far up the line as she could.

Peering over the heads of fellow woodlanders, she saw a bunch of ratguards warning off some of the slaves from a couple of badgers. Fresh and new. But why were _they_ being helped by them?

She came up to an ally, and whispered, "Hey, Athed, waz goin' on up?"

The fellow mouse snorted in contempt. "Beats me. They should b'treated th'same way as we are. No special honors for _slaves_. Mother Kelle teached m'that since I got borned."

Jess nodded, remembering a few of the cruel shrewwife's teachings, but seemed to remember the voice saying, "_And the light that filters in…_". She dismissed it as her own imagination. There was no light. Only dark.

All knew that.

She shrugged. "'Haps there'll be less work wi'them 'round."

"That's no 'cuse." He shot back.

Peering closely at one of them, she noticed the bulge that had before been hidden by the loose rags. "Breedin'?"

He shook his head. "Nah, both ma—" Athed abruptly stopped, and nodded slowly. "Yeah. 'Haps."

She shrugged. "Eh, who's knowin' wha th'Chosen're up t'?"

"Cer'ly no' us."

Shaking her head, she made sloppy motion with her paw from her forehead out. "Eh, I'm goin' up. La'er."

"If there is any."

Rolling her eyes, she elbowed and kicked her way foreward. It was the way of things; the strong survived, the weak failed.

And she was going to survive.

''-''-''

A sly paw reached around the edge of the table and sought to steal her bowl, which she snatched away abruptly, slamming the paw in the process. A muffled curse echoed from underneath, and she heard the body skitter away.

"Hey, you ain't gonna eat that, right? I mean, pet or no pet, you don' need _that_ much."

She looked up and frowned, watching Athed show the badgers who was boss around there. About to go to join him, she saw the ratguards approaching and steeled herself.

"You! Slave! Get away from them!"

The male badger snarled at the mouse, and Jess cringed. She was suddenly aware that these badgers shouldn't be messed with, if only for the reason that they had sharp-looking fangs…

"Go, little cur. Weasel away in fear."

The badger's voice was booming, and even the ratguards hesitated. But Athed, uncharacteristically with no sense of self-preservation, snarled and took a step forward that should have been menacing. But now, it just looked idiotic.

A paw tapped her on the shoulder and she whirled around, ready to give the beast a good clobbering, when she saw that it was a ratguard. Retaining the nasty expression on her face, she listened to him.

"Slave. Mother Kelle needs you."

Rolling her eyes, Jess stood and gave a sloppy salute, then sprinted off. The ratguard looked after her and shook his head, then turned on heel and marched out of the the slave quarters, reflecting on how, if perhaps trained properly, that mouse might've made a good recruit were she a rat. Most civilized thing any slave had done, that salute.

How little did he know that things were about to change.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: **You should be thankful that I remain unnoticed by certain someones...

But I must hurry. So, read, and thank you for the reviews once more. Haven't had this kind of audience since _Surviving the Sues_.

* * *

Chapter 3:

Jess skidded to a halt at the fork, and made to go down the usual way, clothed in darkness peppered with torchlights so the patrols could actually _see_. But she halted, and looked curiously down the darker, mustier passageway that nobeast came near. Hesitant, unusually so, she tip-toed down the corridor.

A chill washed over her, making her neckfur stand on end. Quivering, she took one more step and squeezed her eyes shut when the cold suddenly seemed to halt, and slowly turned to warmth. Her eyes snapped open, suspicion and amazement washing through them. Steps a little surer, she walked over to the thing hanging in the hall.

Cocking her head, she saw that whilst the rest of the area was dusty, the…_tapestry_…was not. It seemed well cared for, unlike what slaves would do. But why would the Chosen look after a hanging of a mouse?

Stepping a little closer, she peered at the beautiful embroidering, the vermin fleeing, the mouse proudly standing in the middle, leaning on a sword as though he hadn't a care in the world. Looking up, she cocked her head, some of the cruelty fleeing her every moment she was in the presence of this warrior. He seemed to smile sadly, seemed to look _straight_ at her…

Feeling slightly overwhelmed, she stepped back a little, eyes still wide with wonder. The mouse looked like…like a _true_ Chosen…

A small shaft of sunlight found its way through a crack in what she now realized was once a window, barricaded with stones. On impulse, she walked over and knocked one out, where it fell to the ground below. The beam was larger now, and illuminated the tapestry…

"_..and the light that filters in,_

_Signals the day shall now begin…_"

Shaking her head, she…_saluted_... at the mouse. But it was a bit stricter, more uniform, than the sloppy gesture she had given the Chosen. Then she ran off.

The mouse's smile lost a little of its sadness.

''-''-''

The shrewwife was clearly an inch from death, shivering and not moving from her rocking chair as Jess approached her. But even then, her old eyes sparkled with open menace.

"Gi' o'er 'ere, m'li'l one,

For I'll add t'yore cruel life,

Gi' o'er ere, y'wretched soul,

Com', an' gimme yore name."

Shivering mentally, Jess came closer and spoke roughly to hide the eerie feeling she felt. "Ol' hag, your brain's have gone down dead. Whaddya need."

The witch only cackled.

"An' so I will,

When giv' yore name,

But only 'till,

Y'giv' yore name."

Feeling a little creeped out, Jess sighed and turned around. "I'm not botherin' t'put up with ye."

"An' if ye go,

M'li'l one,

I will strike low,

M'li'l one."

Jess would have punched her jaw gladly, were she not afraid of touching the grimy fur and becoming sick in the head like the shrewwife. "Stop i', witch!"

She giggled.

"Gi' o'er 'ere, do as I say,

Unto yore heart th'darkness preys,

Gi' o'er 'ere, gimme yore name,

And let me read who you're bane."

Curious despite herself, Jess came forward. Quickly, the shrew latched onto her arm, and cackled.

"Now, m'fish, m'wee li'l wretch,

Th'jaws tha' bi', th'claws tha' catch,

I'll now read who you're bane,

An' give yore soul its real name."

The shrew went rigid for one second, as if caught by a memoyr, and snarled. "No!"

Jess jerked her paw away and drew it back to hit her, but the shrew became suddenly active and stood, madness dancing in her eyes.

"Y'be Jess! I know i'be, I know i'!"

The mousemaid was puzzled, and the shrew went back to her mad-filled rhymes.

"Th'li', i'burns, th'li', i's cruel,

Washes 'way darkness's sacred rule,

Th'li', go gone, th'li, begone,

For i's you who's truly wrong."

The mousemaid drew her brow together.

The shrew launched herself at her just as a Chosen appeared in the doorway, clawing and scratching at her muddied face.

"Begone, ye witch, ye crueles' thing,

Begone, take 'way th'li' ye bring,

Begone, I say, le'me g'back,

T'darkness's sacred li'ful lack."

She gouged a scar down her forehead and a welt on her ear before the Chosen was able to pull her off. But the excitement had sent the wife's heart beating too fast, too long, and she lay gasping on the floor, saying one last thing.

"And s'as Night comes t'an end,

W'wait for sky's eve'tual bend,

From light t'dark, but not t'light,

Cast th'earth in endless night."

She let out one last breath, and Jess watched in disbelief as the shrew died. She herself breathed heavily, and one look at the Chosen's calculating stare was unnerving.

Things were about to change.

She could feel it.


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: A while, yes, but I looked this over. Twice.**

**Thanks for the input with the accents. The Shrewwife is dead, so I don't have to do her any more... I did italicize the rhymings and yes, that one from the first actual chapter is in here again. I can't help it. I wrote it on one of the computers in a huge store because I was bored and memorized it. So it stays in my head.**

**At any rate, here is the slightly overdue chapter.**

* * *

Chapter 4:

Stomping around her cell, Jess muttered rebelliously, half-heartedly wishing she could go out and work in the fields. She'd been in here for four bloody days already…couldn't they give her a break? All the dark, which wasn't as comforting as it should have been, and the gurgling of her stomach. The ill treatment. The little water. Well, considering what she'd done as a crime, she was getting off pretty lightly...

She kicked at the door and bruised her foot, letting out a yelp of pain. Cursing herself for how weak she sounded, she made herself appear to enjoy the stinging splinters and throbbing toes. How anybeast could do _that_ sincerely, she hadn't a clue.

Pounding her fist against the other's palm, she stalked some more, ignoring the painful bruises on her arm and shoulders. Her side ached consistently from where she'd been kicked for trying to attack the Chosen. The welts on her forehead and ear still hurt, too. But that Chosen deserved that gash…

The spilling of blood of Chosen was unheard of, but _he'd deserved it_. The bloody little shrimp, suggesting such a sordid idea! Nu-uh, she'd never live it down if they made her do _that_. She'd be the weakest of them all! Sitting in there and doing nothing, minding the idiotic beings…

"Stupid wailin' babes. Throw 'em all down t'Hellgates, good 'n' proper. Le' 'em scream." She fumed, and hissed,

"_They shed their blood on rocks of pain,_

_They shed their tears as acid rain,_

_They shed anger in violent bursts,_

_They all shall live a life so cursed."_

She put her paw up to her mouth, and became wide-eyed. _What in all of Hellgates and Mossflower is goin' on?_

Growling, she nearly punched the wall in her frustration but managed to stop it before she broke her paw. With a angry _hrumph!_, she flopped down on the ground, her tail twitching in agitation and her chest heaving in utter rage.

Then she let out a stream of curses so vile, the Chosen guarding her decided that he wouldn't relay the word-for-word report he had originally been planning to his superiors.

Two more of those, and it'd be her. Kelle had taken three days to make this happen after she'd witnessed the death of the old Mother, Eil. Something told him this mouse would he a bit harder to break.

''-''-''

Less than a day had passed when she'd let loose the second in a frenzy of fur and wild eyes, going mad from the isolation and nearly perpetual silence. They'd made no noise, there was no light, no unusual odor. And for all the bluffing and strong, rude front the slaves put on, they were weak. Cowards. His snout went up in a disgusted snarl.

_"Curse you all to Hellgate's pit!_

_Curse you all to fire's kiss!_

_Curse you all to flame-hot furnace!_

_Curse you all to any cruel purpose!"_

She let out a laugh that wasn't quite as wicked as Kelle's had been, but it was close enough that the rat shivered. After a couple days, she'd get over it; the elder ratguards had told him. But the noise echoed in the sudden silence, and as it stretched on, he wondered if she'd committed suicide without the slightest bit of worry. Besides, if then, they'd send a slave to clean up the cell and conveniently find her dead. Then that beast would be the new Mother or, as was very rarely, Father. He'd memorized their teachings well. After all, he'd always aimed to be at the top of his class

A quiet voice then spoke the third and final rhyme from within the cell, and he nearly exhaled in relief before he registered the words.

_"And as the light is cruel indeed,_

_The dark has greater cruelty,_

_As you get closer to light,_

_Your shadow grows beyond your sight."_

The Chosen crinkled his brow at the odd subject of the rhyme, but signaled another Chosen, slipping silently down the well-lighted passageway to inform his superiors. Still doubting himself, he ran through the words in his head, over and over, but dismissed the foreboding notion. The mouse had broken, and they had a new Mother.

She'd taken long to break, he'd reflected as he stepped into the room and bowed his head. That was good. They needed a strong Mother.

After all, she'd take care of the future of Redmont's strongest slaves.

''-''-''

Jess laid on the floor, curled in a ball and pressing her paws to her ears, not willing to listen to the maddened rhymes she'd been spouting.

Light poured in, and she kept her back to whoever was there, unknowingly murmuring a lullaby from long ago.

"_…and as the stars blink out and fade,_

_The colors in begin to shade…_"

The rats pulled her upright, whilst she lay limp in their paws. Showing no emotion other than the faintest traces of distaste on their muzzles, they dragged her out of the room while she faintly registered everything. Then she blacked out, her world full of maddened riddles and spiraling rhymes.

''-''-''

A few days later, she rocked in the chair, grumbling to herself and cursing her fate, donned in a simple grey dress that itched. Already, she'd tried to go down both ways to the slave compound only to be escorted back none-too-gently. They'd posted sentries at the exit to the building itself, not caring which route she took. Either way, she'd be caught.

They'd sent a vole she dimly recognized as one she'd knocked over and foolishly forgotten about in the hustle to get to the gates. From there, they'd be escorted into the compound and served their meal. Luckily, he hadn't gotten the guts, which she doubted he even had, to strike at her back. Fortunate her.

"Mother?"

She snapped back, "What?"

He'd cringed, and she'd been momentarily surprised at the power she now held.

"They said ye needed some 'elp."

She rolled her eyes and sprang up out of the rocking chair, tired of sitting for so long. Jess wasn't used to working so little, and her paws were rough and cracked from the hard labor they'd put her through since she could understand them and walk properly.

At that time, she'd seemed a bit more…cheery…than the others, but it was quickly cured by what could be labeled as neglect and mistreatment.

"O' course I don' need 'elp! This isn' work! This is Dibbun's play!"

"Dib-buns?"

She ranted on. "I mean, this is no work at all. Keeping an eye on the babes? Pwah! Easy! Not like plowing hard, nearly frosted earth or scrubbing out pans with only paws and salt."

"Mother…"

She stopped. "What?"

She was snappy and irritable. Stupid babes. It was all their fault; it had to be.

"What's a Dibbun?"

Freezing abruptly, she looked at him, and asked, "What?" It wasn't snapped out in a rage. It was softer.

"A Dib-bun. You said it, an' I didn' understan' it."

Her mind racing, she sank back into the chair, and shook her head. "Dibbun?"

The vole looked at her strangely but shook his head. He was an adult, she could now see. "Mother, would you like to rest?"

Shaking her head, something slipped out of her mouth.

_"And so the moonlight's rays shine through_

_The lies and hate and pain that lurk_

_In your heart, which is tempered to_

_Embrace the light, and shun the dark."_

Clapping a paw to her mouth, Jess avoided the vole's startled stare as he held the babe for a maximum of roughly fifteen seconds.

"I' ye don' min' me sayin' so, Mother, I ser'ed un'er Mother Keller, an' she ne'er said any o' those things."

Silence. Her irritation was mainly replaced by the confusion that overwhelmed her, the changes that were occurring.

"An' Mother? What be yore name?" he placed the babe back in its box, and held the next

She looked him straight in the eye, and after another moment's silence, snarled out, "Jess, you fleabag."

Something struck a cord in the vole, and he looked at her oddly. Then, he shook his head and replaced the babe. "Shoulda known."

She didn't ask him.

He never came again.

Now, she stiffly walked up to the door and ignored the wailing of one babe. Burdened by the dress they'd forced her in while in her vegetative state, she struggled out and into the hall that held that tapestry.

Tip-toeing down the corridor, she looked up at the Warrior in silence, her gruff demeanor replaced with one of raw awe. As if urged by an silent voice, her paw reached up and brushed the tapestry cloth.

If she was expecting anything unusual, she was disappointed. No sparks, no flash of sudden light. Nothing was different.

Sighing in defeat, she began to shuffle back to her prison, but stopped at the window and looked at it oddly. What if…

That small hole was still there, but the light didn't seem to be enough any more. Cautiously, aware of what could happen were the Chosen to find her doing this, she pushed a smaller stone out and listened for it to tumble to the ground.

A faint clink, nothing more, echoed up from below.

Nodding, she left the hall and entered the room full of now wailing babes, the sound grating on her nerves.

A little later, there was silence, all but for a soft voice crooning almost unconsciously,

_"And the light that filters in,_

_Signals the day shall now begin,_

_And as the stars blink out and fade,_

_The colors in begin to shade…"_


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N:** (sighs) Yeah, it's been about a month. At first, I had the beginning of the chapter. Then the bottom of my palm got the skin ripped off of it, and I couldn't type for a while. I have discovered a new way to writing with the right hand, though. And yes, I'm a righty.

But then, I didn't have an excuse anymore. Writer's block hit me straight in the face, leaving me with a bloody nose. Couldn't get over it.

Thank **Oreramar** for giving me the cannon to blow that thing apart. It's a start, and I'm thinking we have two, at the very most four, chapters left.

Thank you for perservering, and though this is short, it's up. It's a filler, really.

* * *

Chapter 5:

It had become a habit over time. She'd go down to that Warrior with no name, and at first it was only when she felt overwhelmed and angry. She'd curse silently, and let the oddly soothing presence…it had never occurred to her that there should never have been one… cure her of her fears and hate.

As the badger's stomach bulged further, she became addicted, and made it a habit to come once a week. She became a little less tempered, was kinder than the former mother had ever been, and conscientious about the babes. Still, there was that underlying disapproval and dislike of the children, blaming them for what the Chosen had decided her fate would be.

Once, she'd thought that he was uncharacteristically tall for a Woodlander. Either that, or the beasts in his age had been supernatural giants.

Another time, she'd been angry and had hit the tapestry, snagging a couple threads. It bothered her so much that, mere weeks after the incident, she'd sneaked some thread and a needle. Many curses and pricked pads later, the tapestry was good as before, albeit with a couple dots of blood. She swore to herself never to rip it again, because she had a newfound hatred for sewing. How, as Mother, she was expected to do that as the children she was in charge of grew, she didn't know.

One month until the child was born, Jess went down to the Warrior every day, whenever she needed to. She'd changed. She knew she had, there being a mute anger instead of the volatile being she once was, crude and unsophisticated. True, she was no Empress, but she was…different. Many times, as others had cruelly teased her and physically hurt her, she'd not been as quick to fight back with fists. More so, with her tongue.

She didn't know where it came from, she didn't know where the eloquent phrases had sprung. 'Eloquent' being in comparison. The ratguards were uneasy about her, even as she became less and less a physical threat. It was unnatural for a Woodlander, the way she acted.

Her talking was clearer, and the Woodlanders distanced themselves further and further from her because of it.

"Put that over there, would you?"

A mouse had glared at her and dumped the stack of cloths next to the neatly arranged boxes.

She'd raised an eyebrow, and old anger simmered and sparked. She rolled her eyes and rocked the babe in her arms.

As he turned to leave, he looked back at her. "Y'don' remember, d'ya?"

She narrowed her eyes at him and frowned. "Why would I?"

"Hellgates, yer talkin's changed too! D'ya not remember me? Athed?"

Jess had started, then remembered. "I'd thought y'were reckless, but sensible and ordinary. But now, all I see is a coward with no common sense."

His demeanor darkened, and he exited the room with an aura of hate and disrespect around him.

She felt tears, but brusquely brushed them away, coldly telling herself that he was who he was. He'd only been an acquaintance, anyways. Nobody important.

There was still prejudice and cruelty remaining, and she had to restrain herself from punching and kicking everybeast in sight. A hint of brittle resentment lingered, but it was covered up when she wearily picked up the next babe and wished that she'd be out there again, working. It wasn't as strong as before, but it was still there.

"Y'know, mousey," she'd commented once. "I think that I'm changin'. M'speech is gettin' weird, all proper and Chosen like. But different. I dunno how t'explain it, but if ye could give me a push in the righ' direction, I'd be proper thankful."

She'd talked further, becoming a bit more thoughtful than usual. Things were changing, beasts were different from her point of view, and she became more…gentle, in an oddly _light_ sort of way.

But the hit to the head came surrounding the events of the child's birth.


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Yes, I've updated. I finished this chapter, as many of you know, the day I updated last. And no, Chapter Seven is not written. Not even started. But ideas are flowling, albeit a bit sluggishly and with hints of doubt, so I really hope the wait isn't as long as last time.

I also hope that this chapter isn't anticlimatic from your points of view. I do not want you to feel put out and, as Oreramar said, have a mob after my blood. I do look out for myself.

Without further ado...

* * *

Chapter 6:

She'd been called down to the birthing room, surprised. That vole was going to look over the little ones, apparently. Still…she didn't like the way that they flanked her, two in front, two in back, one to either side. It spoke in volumes that they either didn't trust her or other beasts were going to attack her.

Jess personally suspected the former. They really wouldn't care what happened to her; she was a slave.

Rolling her eyes, she kept in line with the soldiers, stumbling at times because of the stupid, cumbersome dress. Why couldn't she wear something _sensible_ for once?

Grumbling in annoyance, she stayed at the trot, but was genuinely surprised when a sweat broke out on her forehead.

_What in all Hellgates? I'm not supposed t'be sweatin'! I didn' do it before!_

There was silence as she was escorted out into the chilly spring. Faintly surprised it wasn't, as it had been the last time she'd checked through the little hole she'd made; there had been flurries of snow and huddled figures in the slave compound.

Which was, apparently, where they were headed.

As she was escorted into the compound, the noise hushed as the woodlanders stared at her.

Jess didn't remember seeing anything primal and uncivilized in their eyes when she was one of them. But all she saw was hate, anger, cruelty, and barbarism.

They continued to talk, but in low, heated murmurs. Then somebeast came up to her and the ratguards.

"Yer scum!"

Another piped up, standing and baring crooked teeth.

"Traitor!"

A rock came flying towards her, and she wasn't able to duck before it clipped her ear.

They hurried her to the back of the compound, where the female badger lay panting, the male hovering over her protectively.

The ratguards pulled the male away brutally, but Jess had been expecting it in the back of her mind. It was how things were. How things were accepted.

_But should they be?_ A sly voice in the back of her mind asked.

Jess shook it off, and snarled at the rat that pushed her towards the badger, itching to just rake her claws across his face and disfigure the muzzle. But that would not go over well, and she'd learned if only a little bit from that last encounter. She may find herself in a worse position, though she doubted there was one, than the last time.

The badger looked at her, anger and distrust flashing through her eyes. She wasn't as uncivilized as the rest of the slaves, but still…she was nowhere near the majestic being of that Warrior.

"She's almost ready to give birth. Stay here. You must witness it."

The badger cried out and twitched. Jess's stomach flipped as the realized that this was going to get messy…

''-''-''

A long time of standing around, being forced to move because of the spectators, and the complications that their detainment of the male badger proved finally bore fruit.

A wailing, furless babe was born, and the ratguards relentlessly slapped it into breathing.

A slave entered with towels, and Jess was handed the babe, obviously meant to dry it. As she was busy with this, and the ratguards were trying to hold back the badger, the slave struck.

Quickly, it pulled out a small, sharpened stick from the dangling rags and struck the badger in the heart, letting her gasp and stiffen. Jess didn't know how he'd hidden the weapon, but before she knew it, he was leaping towards her, trying to kill the child as well.

And then a ratguard impaled him on the tip of his sword.

Athed died, still reaching to deliver the killing blow as Jess instinctively turned and shielded the child.

Angry, the rat had turned on her and slammed a fist into her face, giving her a black eye. It then proceeded to yell at the other Chosen, who lost their fight with the badger as it stormed into the room.

Utter silence ripped through the room as he looked at the badger, and let out a howl. It was cut short as the same Chosen slammed his blade through the badger's heart, commenting as he withdrew it, "What good is one badger without the other?"

Another ratguard hit him over the head with the hilt, and, as the Chosen crumpled, he remarked, "But what good is no badger, Ash?"

He jerked his head towards the door. "Go."

She was all too happy to comply.

''-''-''

Jess did not lay the babe down in the not-quite-box the Chosen had provided. It was too hard, too cruel. Flat. No sides to stop it from rolling over and falling out. Instead, she wrapped it in blankets, and paced around the chair she put it in.

One circle. Two.

She could not believe the Chosen.

Three. Four.

They were supposed to be civilized. Sophisticated.

Reverse. Five.

And yet, they kill a badger, then knock out their own? How is that supposed to be good and…_Chosen_?

Six. Seven.

And that slave…why? Why had Athed done that?

Reverse. Eight.

But then again…She remembered that one time…

…_watched Athed show the badgers who was boss around there…The male badger snarled at the mouse, and Jess cringed. She was suddenly aware that these badgers shouldn't be messed with, if only for the reason that they had sharp-looking fangs…_

_"Go, little cur. Weasel away in fear."_

_…But Athed, uncharacteristically with no sense of self-preservation, snarled and took a step forward that should have been menacing…_

What did he have against them?

Nine.

She stopped, and looked at the door.

Without hesitating, she scooped the babe up and hurried out, not paying mind to the wailing in the background.

She walked down the hall quickly, and placed the babe below the Warrior's tapestry, then took a step back.

"Why?"

He didn't answer.

"Why didn't you stop them? Y'should have shown me, should have guided me to stoppin' it from happening!"

She stomped her foot. "You know what? You're just a stupid mouse, who doesn't know anything!"

She paused, then laughed out loud. "I'm really goin', aren't I? Blamin' you, a bloomin' tapestry, for not doing the impossible."

Silence fell, and she reminded herself of what they did, over and over and over…Athed and that…Ash…those idiots…

The child would have known his parents were it not for stupid, rash, barbaric actions.

Anger built up, and built up, and she needed a way to get it _out_.

Her eyes flew all over the place, seeking out something to punch, to pound, that wouldn't hurt her. She turned, and saw the pent-up window.

Without thinking, she was over there and slamming the rocks out, muttering under her breath as she did so.

Later, she sent the last rock tumbling down, silently turned and picked up the child. Without a word, she walked back into her room, and Martin saw full light for the first time in so very long.


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N**: And so the main sequence ends, my faithful readers. It's not long...was never meant to be. I'll give you a little snatch of an epilogue, but _Mountain_ is for that.

And no, I will not be continuing _that_ story. I leave it up to you to decide.

Do the woodlanders win Freedom, or do they suffer under rule.

Redmont is, I have discovered, in the Ranger's Apprentice Series. I claim no copyright. This is Redwall-turned-Redmont.

I took the Litmus test for Jess and got an 8. So very happy...

Thank you for staying with me until the end! And give thanks to **Much Ado About Nonny** for spurring me to write this chapter. It is her concequently late review that got me going.

Thank you, once more!

* * *

Chapter 7

Jess fervently glanced at the door and tried to wipe her face clean of any emotion, anything that would give her away. Weeks had passed, spring evolving into the very beginnings of warm summer, since that incident. It didn't seem so bad now, looking back, but there was the realization etched in her mind. And it wasn't going to fade away any time soon.

If she didn't get out soon, soon soon soon, she'd go _mad_.

Perhaps that was what Mother Keller had felt…maybe she'd witnessed something not as epic in scale, but enough to drive her to the edge of Hellgates and back again.

She didn't know, though. Jess didn't know what Mother Keller had felt, and it wasn't important now. What was important was keeping her ideas locked away from all others. The slaves hadn't attempted this in _decades_.

Escape.

She glanced at the door again, hurrying through her plans. Middle of day wouldn't work, and in the dead of night there wasn't anything likely to be going on.

Instead looking out the window, she noticed the alert guards and the squabbling slaves quietly. Growling in frustration, she picked up one of the resented babes and rocked it softly, furiously going over her plan.

It had been picked apart over time, scratched and weaved back together, again and again and _again_. But there was that one downfall, that one thing…

She'd been saving her food for a little now, the hard, non-perishable stuff. She'd made a makeshift bag slung across her back for the badger babe...but that infuriating choice of _when to go_!

She didn't know. She just didn't know.

How?

How?

_HOW?_

Jess set down the babe and rocked the next, growling furiously,

_"Fires leap from mountain tall,_

_Salamanders, down they crawl,_

_Ellipseing the falling sun,_

_From the Chosen, run run run."_

Seething, she rocked it for another minute in silence, then placed it back down in the box. She then went to pick up the next and her arms faltered as the weight was heavier than it should have been.

Looking down, she saw the badgerbabe asleep, a light fuzz covering the otherwise hairless body. Frowning, she realized that were it winter, the child would stand no chance with their escape.

Even now, she questioned the wisdom of taking the child with her. It would weigh her down, and she'd have to be constantly worried for it as well as herself. If pursuit happened, how was she supposed to keep the both of them safe and out of Chosen's grasp?

Sighing, she rocked the child further.

_"Moon eclipsing sun so bright,_

_Fighting for our only right,_

_Westward head to freedom's sea,_

_Fin'ly earn a chance to breath."_

She set the child down, and picked up another…a scrawny little squirrelbabe, who cooed and poked her in the nose. Squashing down momentary annoyance, she had the brief flash of taking _all_ of these children…

In turn, she immediately disintegrated that idea…how would she be able to get out and get away with all of them, let alone carry? There was no way. One would be enough. Too much.

The door handle jiggled as she set down the squirrel and picked up another child.

A slave came in, flanked by two Chosen. Apparently, the Emperor didn't want any more chances taken regarding the badgerbabe. The shrew stacked some clean towels nearby, and was escorted back out.

Nothing was explained to her questioning glare, but she distinctly heard the door being locked from the outside…

Lucky she hadn't planned on using the door to escape.

But ever since what Athed had done and tried to do, they trusted nobeast. That put a serious crimp in her routines…she couldn't get a breath of fresh air without the looming presence of Chosen guards.

She glanced out the window, which was facing north, and got a puzzled expression on her face.

"Westwards head…" Jess didn't realize why she said that. She could only see the tail ends of the rays of the setting sun, and west wasn't where she was going to head at first…She was going to head east, towards the sea.

Sighing, she realized that now, the last shift before day ended and horrendously close to when the guards took the slaves in, was time to act. She had three hours before they would come in.

And she hoped that her skills had improved in sewing.

Tremendously.

''-''-''

She grunted as she fashioned the dress into a sloppily-made one-piece tunic and pant set, cursing silently as she pricked her pads over and over. Grumbling, she turned to the long straps of cloth and began sewing those together.

She hated sewing.

Eventually

Jess lifted the kid into the sack and prayed it didn't rip.

She tied the straps, crossing them across her chest and looping them back in the ragged, overlarge loops she had created. Grunting, she stood and staggered a few steps.

Gritting her teeth, she mumbled, "Hellgates, you're _heavy_!"

Phase two just got a whole lot harder.

''-''-''

Jess's jaw stayed locked in that teeth-grinding position as she inched slowly down the wall, claws straining as she found pawhold after pawhold in the old, sandstone rock.

At one point, the area under her left hind paw had crumbled, sending her heart racing on a forbidden taboo and forcing her to look down. She'd snapped her head up to stare at the sandstone right in front of her nose and breathed shallowly, trying to stop her head from spinning.

She'd never realized how _high_ her little room was above the ground. And she'd never thought she'd be afraid of heights. Of falling.

Then again, she was no tree rat! Tree rats didn't have long bald tails and grey fur. They just _didn't_.

Climbing down seemed to take forever, and when she touched the ground she nearly sobbed in relief, then heard the rip of the babe's sack.

She looked up, then down at the hole and marveled at how the badger had stayed _asleep_ for so long down that terrifying trip. Then she looked up.

_No way in all good Dark Forest_, she thought, _'m I gonna go back up there an' get that curs'd kit!_

Instead, she hung to the shadows and slipped out the northern gate just as the Chosen were herding in the slaves.

''-''-''

She was nearly to the forest's edge when the badger had promptly woken up and begun to cry.

Sourly, underneath all her fear, she thought_, what a wonderful time for you to wake up. Couldn't it have waited?_

When the Chosen started to look around, she began to run, and that was a big mistake.

They saw the streak in the distance and immediately took chase, physical fitness slowly outweighing the not-physically fit one.

Jess gasped for breath, cursing the fact that she wasn't able to endure this test due to all those relatively soft weeks spent indoors.

The child continued crying, and gave a clue to the Chosen as to where she was going, where to look.

Becoming more and more irate, she finally slammed westwards and stumbled across a creek, the splashing noises still leading the Chosen on.

The badger still insisted on spewing out outraged noises, so Jess finally, stumbling, tore a piece of bark off of a tree and shoved it in the child's mouth.

Contentedly, it chewed on it.

Groaning, she raced on, need to escape fueling her with adrenaline, and she could barely ignore the pain in her legs and lungs as she ran on and on.

Hours passed and she was little more than stumbling, pressing on and on, tearing bark half-heartedly off trees when the babe finished with the previous one. She didn't know if it was good for him or not, but…

It shut him up.

And that was fine.

Finally, she collapsed, and crawled underneath a few bushes in an attempt to stay hidden.

The badger finally slept.

''-''-''

Drinking water wherever she could find it and cursing herself for not bringing any, she stumbled through shifting sands, hills and hills of them, pressing ever on towards the unknown. Away from the east...where the sea was.

Eventually, finally, she dragged herself and the child, sand-covered and burning in the sun, past the dunes.

Though she was off by a few miles northward, the great mountain rose through the ground and scraped the sky, a majestic relic of ancient times long ago. A plain of blue stretched towards the horizon, meeting the same scraped sky.

Crying in relief, she pressed on.


	9. Epilogue

**A/N: **Yes, I actually wrote it. Thanks to Martin the Warrior, at any rate. He _ordered_ me to write it. And no, not THE Martin the Warrior...the reviewer.

Can you believe him?

I'm really just kidding. He's fine.

At any rate, here's the final installment of Redmont. This is it. I'm sorry for the last part, if it gets a bit long (it really was supposed to be shorter, and less cliche), but the odd image of (blank) doing (blank) just had to be put in. And of course, we had to deviate from the Tapestry. Make a little bit of trouble.

Thanks for all the support...I really enjoyed writing this, and it put be back into the world of Redwall Fiction. Thanks, once again! And have a wonderful Christmas!

**_

* * *

_**

**_Epilogue:_**

_She remembered looking down, casting never-resting eyes upon her immediate surroundings, and seeing two figures. Curious, the fire in her belly sating for just a little while, cooling and hardening further, she took a closer look._

_Her eyes were not as good as when she was young, angry at the world and spewing fire to make land. But she could still make out the unmistakable form of a child in a young one's arms._

_Invisible eyebrows scrunched together as she struggled to see if they were of those spawn of evil she had withstood time and time again, but even though the carrier was similar in looks to one spawn of evil, it was different. Smaller stature, bigger ears…it looked like one of those she hadn't seen in a long, long time…_

_She felt another patrol exit, consisting largely of hares. Very few others were able to make it, the majority of them being otters and squirrels. There were no…_

_What was that word?_

_Shaking a nonexistent 'head', she dismissed it from her mind. Names were of little meaning, she thought. Little._

_The patrol found the collapsed and thin child, falling forward as to not hurt its burden. Curious, the Mountain waited little longer, just a little longer…_

_They sent two back, supporting the malnourished (how did it get so thin?) being, one carrying the other with a brief flash of emotion on…was it a him or her? She didn't know._

_As the presences entered her dominion, the tunnels carved out by molten streams of burning rock and smoldering lava, tephra once coating the very surface they walked upon, she recognized one of them. So soft, so young, so untainted by the darkness found in many._

_She saw the badger babe, and a great roar of victory roiled her lifestream, her blood, the fire which soothed and burned so conflictingly. It heated and melted the cooling areas, leaving her fresher and more renewed since so long ago when the spawn ran rampant, defeating a far-off place once filled with hope and good, a place they once called __**Redwall**__._

_But now they stuck the stupid name of Redmont onto it, and she so wanted to rip it off and replace what it originally was, release the bitter creatures inside of it._

_But was it worth it? The Woodlanders were changed so much, turning from basic good to cruelty and mindless pettiness. _Her_ Woodlanders weren't much better…they were coarse and unsophisticated, not like the ones of so long ago. Oh, how she _ached_ for the Long Patrol, for her dear Badgerlords and ladies, for the strong warriors who graced her halls, filled with good._

_Perhaps this child was the turning point. The turning point for Freedom and Hope and Justice. _

Dom, _she whispered into the badger's mind. _Dom. Freedom.

_And for no apparent reason, he smiled and reached towards the ceiling, gurgling out familiarity._

Dom…

''-''-''

_The Emperor shifted and rubbed his head as the report was made. Yes, they had lost the infidel Woodlander nurse. Yes, they were superior in agility and the like to her. No, they don't know why they couldn't get her. Yes, she did take the future of workforces with her._

_Behind him, making smug and silly, mocking faces at the High One, a mouse with a tubby belly stood. The Chosen made no motion to indicate they saw him, and it was justly so. Another mouse drifted through the wall, and sighed at his friend's impish, childish behavior._

_"Gonff, can't you leave off doing that?"_

_The Mousethief danced a little, thumbing his nose at the irate and world-weary ferret. "But she got away, with a better vocabulary to boot!"_

_Martin smiled a little, affecting the tapestry a few hundred yards away. "Ah, but how do you know she made it to Salamandastron?"_

_Gonff chortled. "'Cause if she hadn't, we'da known by know, wouldn't have we? She'd have shown up at the Gates, or in this now forsaken place!" He wrinkled his nose and mimed stealing the Emperor's quill._

_"And that's why we need to wait a little more time for little Dom to grow up a bit, get together an army, and storm the place. Not that," he gazed sadly down at the Slave Pens, "they're any better than the Chosen."_

_"I'll say!" Gonff huffed. "The li'l blighters. Fighting over little scraps of food, no manners…I say! At least I didn't fight! I just liberated!"_

_There was a moment of silence, and Martin got an odd glint in his eyes._

_Martin smiled wider, and made bunny ears over the Emperor's head. "That you did, Gonff. Shall we cause a little bit of mischief? It gets awfully boring."_

_Looking at his friend strangely at his sudden change in behavior, Gonff gave a shakey grin. "Sure…"_

_The warrior laughed and pantomimed throwing flowers and skipping around the Chosen assembled._

_After a moment's hesitation, Gonff threw it into the wind, and blew a raspberry in the Emperor's ear._

_He sat up straighter and stared right through Gonff, who laughed and blew over some papers. The assembled Chosen stared at them._

_Gonff grinned and thought,_ Let the mischief begin.


End file.
